Page 41 of Leave It On The Field (Grand Slam 3)
“Actually, I’d kind of like to take a swing at you right now.”
“Pshhh. Son, you couldn’t come close to taking me down. You wouldn’t even get a swing in. Especially now. You’ve gotten soft since you met Sophie.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Okay, NoJoe. Be here when I get back and we’ll see who’s soft.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, puffing out his barrel chest. “I’m always here.”
“No truer words have ever been spoken,” I say, sighing.
I grab my toiletry bag out of the locker to see what Sophie packed. Before every game, she stuffs it full of little bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and lotion, and the soap I like that smells like coconuts. And she always includes a note.
* * *
Only two more weeks until we’re at the lake house! I promise I’ll try to bait my own hook this time. But can I use gummy worms instead of the real ones? I think the fish will like them. xxxxoooo
* * *
“What did Sophie pack for you tonight, sweetie?” Dane looks over from his locker. “Some pretty perfumes? Or maybe a sweater in case it gets cold later.”
Manny walks by and tries to grab the note. I stiff arm him.
“Ooo, Seb, use the little soapies I pack for you,” he says, ducking under my arm. “You smell so good, baby.”
“Fuck you,” I say. “Just because you pitched a three-hitter doesn’t mean I won’t come after you.”
“I thought you didn’t pick fights,” Joe says. “And I told you I’m right here if you want to fight someone.”
“Take him down, Joe,” Manny says. “I’ll pay to see it.”
“How much?” Joe asks. “Maybe we should get pay-per-view involved.”
* * *
When I get out of the shower, Ray Franklin, our beat reporter from the Miami newspaper, is sitting next to my locker.
“Good game, Seb.”
“Thanks, Ray. Isn’t the media supposed to catch us in the interview room during the post season?”
“Yeah, mostly. Ken always sneaks me in here since I’m with you guys every day of the season.” He pauses for a second. “So what was that tense conversation with Drew about before you went into the showers?”
I pull on a clean t-shirt. “It wasn’t tense. Just a conversation.”
“Was he talking to you about putting some more years on your contract? You’ve only got one left—well two if you count your player option year.”
“No, he wasn’t talking about my contract.” I rake a dab of the cream stuff Sophie gave me through my hair. She said it defines my waves.
“Has he talked to you about extending your contract? You’re turning twenty-nine this year but you’re playing at the absolute top of your game. You probably have five, even ten years, left in you. Do you want to keep playing?”
“Seriously, Ray, I’m not even thinking about my contract. We’re in the World Series. We just won the first game. I’m trying to take everything one day at a time.” I grab my shoes out of the locker and hold them up to him. “Sophie bought me these shoes. She said they’re boat shoes or something. What do you think? They’re not really my style.”
Ray watches me pull them on. “My wife has dressed me for thirty years. I think it’s best not to ask questions. They usually get it right.”
“Yeah, I guess. She hasn’t missed yet. People always say how they like the things she picks out for me.”
He laughs. “I think Joe’s right. You are getting soft—but in a nice way. Sophie’s good for you. And I’m not talking about the shoes. You seem happier now.”
“I am. So much happier. Sophie’s changed everything. People talk about her being a distraction when she’s really the only thing that keeps me sane.”
He looks up from his notebook. “Can I quote you on that? I know you don’t like talking about your family to the media.”
“Yeah, you can use it. And make sure you put it in all capital letters. I want everyone to know she’s not a distraction. She’s my world now and it’s a pretty fucking amazing world.”
* * *
